


Bitter Water

by authoritypigeon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Bruises, Derek's a self deprecating idiot, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoritypigeon/pseuds/authoritypigeon
Summary: The thing is, he knew it wasn’t a good idea. It would end poorly. And Stiles probably knew it too, the little shit just didn’t care.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 164





	Bitter Water

**Author's Note:**

> This started out inspired by Bitter Water by The Oh Helloes and quickly devolved. I'm shit at tagging so if I missed a tag that should be added, let me know.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to Stiles. He was still a little gangly, a little coltish, but he had filled in nicely the summer after graduation. His features lost more of that adolescent softness, revealing sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline.

The thing is, he knew it wasn’t a good idea. It would end poorly. And Stiles probably knew it too, the little shit just didn’t care. 

It wasn’t really the age difference, though it was an easy excuse to pull out instead of actually talking about his feelings. He had no illusions, he was a broken man. He’d been moulded, fired in the kiln, and come out cracked. 

So when Stiles had mashed their lips together after Derek had caught him mid fall, he resolutely righted the young man and pointed at the door, unable to look him in the eye. Stiles had stammered out breathless apologies as he dashed out of the loft, the door slamming shut behind him.

Hours later, as he tossed and turned in bed failing to force his mind to rest, he could still feel Stiles’s lips against his and taste his chapstick. Something opened in him, a yawning pit, a gnawing hunger, an unquenchable thirst. He thought about driving over to the Stilinski house, climbing through Stiles’s window like he use to, and getting his fill.

Instead he shoved his face into the pillow and growled.

*

Stiles had avoided him for weeks. He left pack meetings early, rambling off flimsy excuses as he tripped over his own feet in his rush to get out the door. There were always at least two people between them at any given time, if Stiles even bothered to show.

He heard the lock click only a moment before he smelled Stiles. For not the first time he regretted using a coded lock on the loft door.

Stiles, for his part, nearly dropped the box he was balancing when he found Derek staring at him from the table.

“Oh,” he started, shifting the box into both arms as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. “I didn’t think you’d be home.”

And he wasn’t supposed to be. Today was his weekly lunch date with Cora, but she had canceled, citing a mountain of mid-term papers due in the next week.

“Um,” Stiles shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. “I just wanted to return some stuff. Some books you lent me. And your hoodie.” He stepped just inside the doorway and set the box down, rustling through its contents to make sure that was all of it. Derek approached as he straightened, Stiles balancing on the balls of his feet as if he was thinking of fleeing. His eyes were wide and fingers twitching.

And that triggered something in the back of his instinct driven wolf brain. It felt like chasing prey and the hunt, teeth tearing into flesh and the lifeblood of a successful kill flowing over his tongue. He didn’t know if it was the looming full moon or if he was truly messed up (probably a little bit of both) but before he could really process what his body was doing he had grabbed Stiles by the front of his jacket and shoved him bodily against the door. He crashed their mouths together, a mess of teeth and tongues as he tried to eat him alive, drink him in. And Stiles seemed eager to feed him as he swallowed groans and breathless pants.

But then they broke apart to gasp in a breath and the spell was broken. Stiles shoved him back by his shoulders and slapped him before disappearing out the still open door.

Derek stood there for a long, stunned moment before gingerly sliding the door closed. As the lock clicked into place he let his head fall against the metal with a hollow thump.

What the fuck was he doing?

*

When the full moon came the next night Derek headed out to the preserve, forgoing the usual full moon meet up. He wanted to just run, and run, and run. Clear his head, clear his senses and hopefully forget about how that pit in him hungered for unruly brown hair, a smart mouth, and smooth, mole dotted skin.

And for the most part it worked. His bones cracked and skin stretched as he fell into the wolf, the moon pulling him into the forest to run, to chase and hunt, to howl. He felt lighter, freer, than he had the entire month since that first kiss.

But of course it couldn’t last. 

As he approached the edge of the woods the crisp breeze brought with it the acrid smell of nerves and anger only undercut by Stiles natural warm, spicy scent. His heart dropped into his stomach and he paused just at the treeline. He didn’t want to face this. Didn’t want to deal with it. Definitely not now, maybe not ever. 

Through the trunks of the trees he could just glimpse the full moon resting on the horizon, not quite gone. He steeled himself and shifted as he stepped from the treeline, wincing a little as his bones resettled into the human shape.

As he approached where the cars were parked Stiles slid off the hood of the Jeep and stomped toward him, too aggressive for the wolf’s liking. Derek barely managed to hold in a growl and the human jabbed a finger into his chest.

“You are a fucking asshole,” Stiles spat at him, punctuating the last two words with a jab of his finger. It took all Derek had to push down the wolf and keep himself from biting the finger off. Instead he snatched Stiles wrist as the last jab pressed into his sternum. He was probably gripping it a little too hard, if he’s being honest.

“Like that’s news,” he snarled back and threw down Stile’s hand, pretending not to notice his wince. “Now is not the time, Stiles.” He stepped around him, toward the Camaro.

Stiles stepped into his path, trying to block him. “If we don’t do this now, we never will. I’m tired of dancing around this bullshit with you!” Derek tried to step around him again, but Stiles matched him, step for step until he was backed against the driver side door of the Camaro.

Derek pulled in a deep, what he hoped would be steadying, breath. “Get out of my way, Stiles.”

“No. If you won’t talk to me then you’re not leaving until I’ve at least said my piece.” Derek glared down at him, scowling, but Stiles matched him in intensity and for a long moment they just stared at each other. Finally, Derek let his shoulders drop and sighed in resignation.

“Fine,” he conceded and took a step back. Stiles remained with his back to the Camaro, arms folded against his chest, looking less intimidating and more like he was trying to comfort himself.

“You know I’ve had a crush on you for years,” he started, voice cracking ever so slightly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you the way I did and I’m sorry for that. But you don’t get to decided you want something from me after you reject me and then just try to take it.” His arms tightened around himself and Derek could hear the slight quiver in his voice and see the wetness building along his lashes.

If Stiles was angry enough to start crying, he’d really fucked up. At least he had the sense to feel ashamed.

Stiles sucked in a steadying breath and continued. “We’ve been dancing around this thing for too long. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt anything for me but you sure as hell never discouraged it. I understand why nothing happened while I was in high school; I was still underaged and we all had a helluva lot more to worry about. But if you wanted something you’ve had the whole past year to do something about it. And I know you’re an emotionally constipated werewolf man-child but you’re gonna have to grow the fuck up and use your words like a god damn adult.”

Derek wasn’t sure he could look Stiles in the eyes. Any anger or frustration he had felt before now had melted away, leaving only shame. After a long, silent moment he opened his mouth, but floundered, trying to find the words, any words. But what could he even say?

Stiles scoffed and pushed off the Camaro. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered and set off toward the Jeep.

“Stiles, wait,” Derek finally managed. He reached a hand out as if him to stop him, but was careful not to touch. Stiles sighed heavily and turned around. Derek let his hand fall.

“I-” Derek started, but cut himself off. He sighed in frustration and scrubbed his hands over his face, thinking about what he wanted to say. “You’re absolutely right. I’m an asshole. I should have put a stop to . . . whatever this is,” he gestured between the two of the them. “But I’m weak. I- I’m selfish. I find you so god damn attractive,” he growled out, frustrations with himself starting to well up. He wanted to pace and stalk, expend some of this anxiousness, but he stood where he was, opting to run hand through his hair instead. “I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it because I don’t deserve you and you shouldn’t have to deal with my messed sense of self worth.” Stiles’s expression softened a little, his brows furrowing sympathetically.

“But I’m so fucking selfish. I let you stay within reach so I didn’t have to actually confront my feelings. I-” He sighed long and frustrated, scrubbing his hands over his face again with a soft growl. “I should’ve just gotten my feelings under control and put a stop to it. I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I never should have let it get this far.”

There was a long moment of silence where Stiles just looked at him. Finally, he stepped forward slowly, and brought a hand up to cup Derek’s cheek. When the man didn’t pull away he leaned in slowly, giving Derek a chance to stop it. Their lips met, soft, and gently began to work against each other.

Stiles grew more insistent, kissing harder, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck to pull him closer. Derek was all too happy to oblige, hands gripping the other’s waist in an attempt to steady the both of them.

“I’m still mad at you,” Stiles muttered against his lips. “But god dammit you’re sexy when you’re vulnerable.”

Derek could only growl in response, nipping at Stiles’s lips. Stiles let out an amused snort but Derek wasn’t really paying attention. Now that the anxiety and frustration from the situation had mostly dissolved, he could feel the pull of the full moon at the base of his skull. It was waning with the lightening dawn, but present all the same, pulling at his wolf, still riled up from the shift.

He wanted to drink Stiles up, satiate his hunger, if he’d let him. So he guided Stiles backward, up against the Camaro again. He pressed a leg between his thighs and Stiles’s head rolled back against the car with a groan, exposing the long line of his slender neck. Sliding a hand into Stiles’s hair, he tilted his head to the side, kissing and nipping along his jaw and down his neck. Stiles let out soft moans and clutched at Derek’s shirt, tilting his head further, inviting

Where shoulder met neck Derek took in a deep breath savoring Stiles’s warm, spicy scent mixing with heady arousal. “Tell me to stop,” he breathed into the flesh

“Hell no!” Stiles responded breathlessly. “I want whatever the fuck is happening to fucking happen.”

Derek growled, but even to him it sounded more like a whine. He inhaled again and slid his other hand under Stile’s shirt, his palm gliding over warm skin as he gripped his hip. Tugging Stiles’s hair he bit into the junction of his neck, a little harder than he’d meant to if the sharp intake of breath next to his ear was anything to go by. Though the twitching against his thigh and the spike in the smell of arousal told him that maybe Stiles had liked it. 

Encouraged by the response, Derek nosed up to Stiles’s pulse point, breathing in the salt and the spice of him. At the same time the hand he had had on his hip slid down into the waistband of Stiles’s sweatpants, then his boxers and cupped the swell of his ass. Feeling the life flutter under his lips, he bit down, almost hard enough to draw blood, and dug his fingers into soft flesh.

Stiles let out a soft, strangled moan and arched against him and Derek couldn’t take it anymore. He started tugging down the sweatpants and boxers all at once.

“Hold on,” Stiles panted and Derek froze, but Stiles just pulled his wallet from his pocket and fished around for a moment before producing a packet of lube. “You may proceed,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Derek didn’t need to be told twice. He dove back in to kiss Stiles, licking into his mouth, and pushed the sweatpants down. Impatiently they tore at each other’s clothes. Stiles clumsily kicked of his shoes and sweatpants while trying to yank Derek’s shirt over his head. Derek managed to push Stiles’s jacket off his shoulders before deciding that was good enough.

He growled into their kiss and grabbed Stiles’s thighs, hoisting him up and pinning him with his body. Stiles clung to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, his ankles locked around Derek’s waist.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he ripped the lube open with his teeth and coated his fingers. He was probably rougher than he needed to be as he opened Stiles up. Stiles didn’t really seem to mind, little moans and whines falling from his mouth, his nails scrapping along Derek’s shoulders. When Derek brushed his prostate Stiles jolted like he’d been shocked and moaned loudly in his ear.

Stiles reached down and tried to swat his hand away. “Holy shit, just fuck me already,” he panted, and Derek was inclined to oblige. He removed his fingers and used the same hand to finally free his straining cock from it’s denim prison, nearly groaning in relief.

He lined himself up and slid into Stiles, trying to take it slow. Stiles dropped his head back against the car and let out a long, low moan and Derek bottomed out. They stayed there like that for a long minute, staring at each other through half lidded eyes, breathing heavily, before Stiles groaned “Oh my god, fucking move.”

And he did. He set the pace hard and fast, punching out moans and cries of oh fuck, Derek, and God yes. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of Stiles’s thighs hard enough to bruise just as he could feel the nails dragging across his back and shoulders, leaving raised welts in their wake. He was almost disappointed they’d heal before he could see them.

They didn’t last long. As he felt his orgasm building he crammed a hand between them to jerk Stiles off rough and dirty, but he’d barely touched him before cum was shooting out over his hand. Stiles cried out, thighs tightening around his sides and nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood. All that coupled with the sudden vice around his cock had him coming hard with something caught between a growl and a groan.

He was left spent and panting, softening cock slipping out of the warmth of Stiles’s body. Stiles took his face in both of his hands and kissed him, something slow and sweet in stark contrast to what they’d just done. The hunger in him settled, if only a little, allowing him to relish this moment.

Then Stiles pulled back, smile wide, eyes sparkling. “And now, you owe me breakfast.”


End file.
